Vices and Visitings
by thenokken
Summary: 20 years after their 8th year at Watford, Simon and Baz are married and happy. The Visitings have started up again, proving that time doesn't heal all wounds.


Simon

It's late and I'm worried about Baz. He hasn't come home yet and it's nearing midnight. I'm pacing the front room of our small flat, my wings furling and unfurling. Fuck. Why does he do this? His phone's dead and I don't have magic- _Fuck!_ I hit my fist and against the wall and try to breathe, I'm overreacting and I know it.

Baz will be back, he's probably hunting or- or whatever. I don't let myself go into that place, I'm being paranoid, Baz isn't a bounder. We're fine. We're always fine, but it's not like him not to call… I pick up the phone again and try to call him again, knowing that it won't work.

But I have to try.

Baz

I can't go home, not yet. The bar is dim and the drinks are cheap and before long the world is warm and my mind is feeling lighter. I try not to do this, it feels like- I don't know, like _losing_. Pitches never lose. I blindly order more vodka and run my fingers through my hair.

It's all too much sometimes. It's been 20 years since the last Visiting. 20 years since the fucking Mage denied me my last chance to see my mother.

And know she won't come back, the Visitors never come back once they've given their message and it's been resolved.

I down the shot, the burning spreading from my throat to my fingers like fire from the inside out. Fire, how fitting. I think blandly, resting my head in my hands.

God, I'm a mess. Sitting in this grotty bar, alone on a Tuesday night at- I try to check my phone but it's dead. Fuck. Late probably, it's late and I'm a nearly forty year old man sitting by himself in aa bar in London getting pissed on cheap vodka because his dead mother.

Fuck me. I think to myself and order another shot.

Simon

I don't know what time it is anymore. I don't know a lot of things these days. I don't know where Baz is, for starters. I don't know whether I'm sad or angry. I don't what I'll do when Baz gets home, kiss him until he can't breathe or punch him for worrying me like this.

I'm in the middle of my list when I hear someone fumbling at the front door.

"Fuck!" The person on the other side whispers fiercely, and then the door creaks open. It's Baz and he's a mess.

"Baz." I stand quickly, turning on a lamp. He really is a mess, he smells like a liquor store and vomit and blood, his white shirt is stained and he's covered in sweat. "Where the fuck have you been?" My face is hot and I'm clenching my fists watching as he stumbles around.

"Simon," he smiles, but it's a grimace and his eyes are dull and watered down. "I've just been," he gestures wildly, nearly stumbling. "Out. I had a couple of drinks." His words are slurred and he smiles again as he trips towards me. I catch him and nearly gag.

" _Out?"_ I'm nearly shouting, I'm made of anger. "Good, well thanks for that. Christ, Baz, do you know how many times I've called you? Where's your fucking phone? I'm out of my head here!" I shove him away from me and he falls into an armchair roughly, the weak smile on his face is gone.

"Sorry, Snow," he's sneering and it makes me even angrier. "My phone was dead. But I'm fine, I'm fine. Crowley, it's not like I was kidnapped by numpties." He laughs quietly, standing up and walking down the hallway towards our bedroom.

"Fuck you, Baz." I'm steaming and if I still had my magic the world would be ablaze. I turn to face him. "Fuck you." I might cry, I hate it when he's like this, I don't know what's gotten into him lately.

"I'm sorry alright! Is that what you fucking want to hear from your pathetic excuse for a husband? Is it? Fine! I'm sorry! I'm fucking sorry your stuck with me, maybe I'll just go. It'll make your damn life easier, won't it?" He's leaning against the wall, his eyes are closed and his shoulders are hunched over and shaking, oh God. He's crying.

Baz

For Crowley's sake, I think I'm crying. I'm done shouting, I'm done fighting; I'm done. Great Magic, what fucking husband I am. I'm drunk, I know that much, I don't remember how I got home. The past hour- how much time has passed?- has been a blur. I remember the vodka, a lot of it, and then- static.

"Is that what you think?" I didn't hear Simon come towards me, my senses are always dull when I drink. "Baz," Simon is taking my hand and pulling me down the short hallway. To our bedroom? I keep my eyes closed, the room is spinning and I can't make myself look at him.

I hear the shower running. "Baz, look at me." I open my eyes but don't meet his, I'm looking at a mole at the corner of mouth. "Okay, okay." He's upset, running his fingers through his hair, and I feel like a prat- no, I am a prat. "Baz, clean up, we can talk after you shower." I nod and he leaves.

The water is so cold that I'm almost shivering, but I feel better; physically.

I feel better physically.

Simon

I'm pacing across our bedroom, running my hands through my hair. I hear the tap shut off and try to make myself still, I can't. I'm twitchy and anxious, if I'm not pacing I'm tapping my fingers or tugging on my hair. I force myself to sit down before Baz walks in, and I stay quiet as he pulls on his pyjamas.

"Alright," he says finally, sitting down next to me on the bed. "Let's talk."

"Are you okay?" I try to take his hand but he pulls away from me, he still hasn't met my eyes.

"I don't know." He's hunched over and looking down at his knees, resting his arms on them.

"Basil, I'm worried about you. You don't really think you're a bad husband, do you? 'Cause you're not, you're really not."

"If I was a better husband, I'd tell you where I was, I wouldn't stay out until morning and leave you to worry. If I was a better husband we wouldn't be having this conversation. Fuck, Simon. You don't deserve me." I think he's near tears again, his head is in his hands and his words sound choked.

"Listen," I put my hand his back and rub slowly, gently. "Baz. You listen to me, okay? You have no idea what it's like being married to you," he looks up, opening his mouth like he's about to speak but I keep going. "It's a fucking dream, Basil. It's- it's like being wrapped in a warm blanket all the time, being married to you. It's like fresh scones and cold butter every morning, it's waking up next to you everyday and thinking, 'Great Snakes, how did I get this lucky?'." Baz is leaning against me, and I wrap my arm around him, holding him to me. "Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch, being married to you is like being married to a fucking star, or a god. Don't you dare think that you're a bad husband, I'm the only judge of that. Last time I checked I was the one married to you, okay? Now tell me what's really the matter, we both know that you hate vodka."

Baz

I'm crying for real now, despite what he says I doubt that I'll ever _really_ deserve him. Not with all of the things I've done, not with what I am. I don't deserve the sun.

"I know she's gone. They don't stick around after their message has been resolved. I know that I'm supposed to be at peace, or something, with that, I'm supposed to be glad that she's moved on. She's in a better place and all that." I'm rambling now, I'm rambling and I don't care because Simon is holding me. "But I can't imagine not seeing her again, even though I know she'd hate me. Crowley, if she knew about-" I shake my head and Simon lets go of me, he slides off the bed and crouches in front of me on the floor, taking both o my hands.

"She wouldn't hate you. Not because you're gay, not because we're together, not because you're a vampire, Baz. You're not hateful, you've never bitten a person, just because you have fangs doesn't mean you're a monster." His eyes are shining with tears. "No one hates you, Baz. You're bloody Aunt hunted vampires but you're still the center of her world, and your dad, he still loves you. I love you, you idiot, you beautiful idiot, I love you. You're not a monster or a villain, you're a violin teacher, you're an uncle, and you're mine. I know that you're mum is proud of you, _anyone_ would be proud to have someone like you as a son." Simon kisses my hands and stands up.

I stand up with him and fall into his arms, Crowley, I'm a mess. But I'm his mess. "Thank you." I whisper to him, we're both crying. "I'm sorry-" I start to apologize again, but he laughs and rolls his eyes.

"It's alright, come on, it's late. Let's go to sleep." Simon takes my hands and both collapse into bed, holding onto each other as if the very world depended on it.

Baz

I'm cold when I wake up, it's dark outside, but the kind dark that's just dark enough to make it hard to see, but still let's you know it's morning. I don't know why I'm cold, Simon is a furnace and I should be hot, he's still tangled around me. And then I see it.

She's semi-transparent, standing next to window, and she flickers in and out of focus, like a focusing a pair of binoculars. I haven't seen her in 35 years and I know who she is instantly.

"Mum." I sit up, disentangling myself from Simon, I hear him sigh in his sleep he rolls over. Great Snakes, she looks just as I remember her, except… I'm taller than she is now, and we're the same age, or at least close enough to it.

"Basil," She holds her arms out to me and steps closer, standing just over me. "My boy… How you've grown…" She reaches out and touches my face, brushes a lock of hair out my eyes. I'm crying, she smells like mint Aero bars and clove drops and smoke. I feel like a little kid again, and I'm crying.

"Mum, I didn't think- why did you come back?" This wasn't supposed to happen, I've never heard of someone coming back once their message was received.

"To see _you_ , Basil." She sits on the bed, her long red robes puffing out behind her, her rough hand cups my cheek, brushing away tears with calloused fingers. "It's okay, little puff, you'll be alright." She's flickering even more now, and I'm crying even harder as she presses a kiss onto my forehead, right at my widow's peak. "I love you, little puff." She glances at Simon and smiles. "I'm not the only one who does." She brushes my forehead one last time and vanishes like a blown out candle.

"Baz?" Simon mumbles, he sits up slightly, looking around sleepily. "Baz?"

"Here." I lie down again and wipe away he rest of my tears. Simon drapes his arm over me and sighs happily. I move closer to him.

And everything's okay now.

I have him. He's mine.

And I'm his.


End file.
